The Fractured Reality of Courier Six
by Another S.T.A.L.K.E.R
Summary: Fallout New Vegas. Courier Six. Well, that was his last title as his name is lost to all, even himself, wakes from a near fatal execution attempt. What now? Angry and seeking power, he will uncover some secrets held by the wastes, and unleash them. Likely contains: graphic violence, torture scenes, etc. Somewhat AU. Mostly using this as a writing exercise (practice).
1. Chapter 0 - Intro Sequence

Fallout New Vegas: The Fractured Reality of Courier Six

 **Foreword (Chapter 0)**

This story is mainly intended as a writing exercise just to try and gauge/assess how well or poorly I am at different story writing skills. This is also meant as a warm up for returning to the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. story that I just barely started posting on this site, before I had to leave it until now.

Disclaimer - Some elements might have been inspired/borrowed from other games/books/movies.

I don't own the rights to cover image either.

Any guesses as to where its from? Its from a movie...

Start of story is (intro sequence) a mirror to the game, until the courier leaves Mitchell's house.

Feedback is appreciated.

* * *

 _I never really cared for pie._

 _I never expected to live too long as a courier._

 _I assumed I would eventually be taken by this god-forsaken shit-hole of a desert, by raiders, a deathclaw, or puking/shitting out my insides with my hair falling out as my vision begins to fade in and out before dying from radiation poisoning._

 _I definitely never expected to go out like this, being accosted by some jackoff wearing a checkered suit, and a few motorcycle gang douche bags._

 _Fuck my head hurts! These pricks appeared out of nowhere, another somewhat normal courier run, knocked me out and here I am about to be taken out._

 _They were still fucking talking though! I stopped paying attention minutes ago when he no longer said anything of use or importance in his strange, and irritating funny talk of his._

 _The reason itself was obvious: the package. I was a specific target, not a random unfortunate._

 _So, with a chain smoking suit in front of me next to 'the help', it really wasn't looking good, considering the fresh pile of dirt, the new grave, and where the one sided conversation with 'checkers' who seems to love hearing himself speak…_

 _'They deserve to die..._

 _They ALL deserve to DIE!'_

 _The monkey wearing a chess board outfit then flicked yet another fancy cigarette at my soon-to-be grave, before pulling out a heavily personalized pistol._

 _'Oh, so he's one of those twats..'_

[That Checkered Fucker] - " **...might seem like an eighteen carat run-** "

 _He's still talking about nothing really. Maybe I have enough time to write home (wherever that is..)? Fuck. Still bored/dazed/angry._

 _Checkers raises his pistol, now I can see the spot where the bullet will soon emerge, well, if it were daylight that is._

[Checkers] **"-uth is the game was rigged from the start."**

 **BANG**

* * *

This was typed up mostly after drinking a few shots worth of vodka (using shots as my unit of reference)... so I guess we'll see how I feel about this first chapter later, then...

I guess we will see how it all turns out.


	2. Chapter 1 - Awakening

Chapter 1 – Awakening

…

Opening my eyes I see that I am in a large room of some sort with some medical equipment nearby. Everything with a shade of brown. Of dirt.

 **"** **. . . "**

 **"Whoa, easy there. Easy. You've been out cold for days now. Why don't you relax a second? Get your bearings."**

 **"Lets see what the damage is. How about your name? Can you tell me your name?"**

 _Hmm, that is a good question. Looking around me, looking at myself, I see something on my right arm..._

 _Stenciled in blocky letters is one word:_

 **S.T.A.L.K.E.R.**

 **"No… I don't remember..., but refer to me as….. Marked One…"**

 **"Huh, can't say its what I'd have picked for you. But if that's your name, that's your name."**

 **"Well, it isn't, and I don't care, so if we could perhaps move this along, I'm sure we all have things to do."**

 **"Well, alright, fair enough. I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to GoodSprings. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rooting around there in your noggin' to pull all the bits of lead out…"** _How am I still alive? After such severe brain trauma, I seem to be recovering from what should have been tended to at a proper hospital in an ICU,….wait… what are those? ….How strange…._ **"I take pride in my needlework, but you'd better tell me if I left anything out of place."**

 _You had better not. For your sake, old man…_

Handed the small mirror I take a look.

 **"Well, aside from the slightly disfiguring head wound that should be bandaged up.. fine. I still have both my eyes, and from all of several minutes of being alert, responsive and conscious, I seem to be in optimal straits… however, I cannot remember my name, my past. Only a minute or two before they shot me is all that remains of my memories. Now, if you could please bandage this up?"**

 **"Well, now that you've had a chance to admire my needlework, I reckon I should. Alright, hold still. You know, most of my patients tend to be of the four legged variety, sure on occasion some folks might have broken bones, illness… good to know my skills as a surgeon have held up. All done. Now you should change the dressing daily with clean bandages, keep the wound itself clear, and most importantly, allow some circulation. Keep an eye out for signs of infection."**

* * *

\- After many questions and an image of what was 100% two bears high-fiving, later -

* * *

 **"Thanks, Doc. Now, what do I owe? I might not have anything on me at the moment, but that won't be so for very long."**

 **"No charge."**

 **"Anesthetic, antibiotics, thread, bandages, iodine or alcohol, IV bag with fluid, that all costs to replace all of it. And I probably left a few out. I don't like outstanding debts."**

 **"Well, I will charge 1,000 caps, and the rest you can work off in town, helping out. Besides, it'll keep you close by should anything go wrong with your recovery. Go speak with Trudy and Sunny when your feeling up to it. Trudy is the town mayor and owns the only saloon in town."**

 **"Alright. Before I go… I nearly forgot to get a few things .."**

 _~ modz lo4ded ~_

 _: P_

The ambient and gas lighting flickers before returning to normal.

Turning around from the entryway of the house, I head down the hallway to Mitchell's Kitchen.

 _Ah, there it is; a Sako TRG sniper rifle, resting atop the cabinetry._ I pull it down, and sling it over my shoulder with the lens covers on. Next I grab the duffle bag from inside the cabinet right next to Doc Mitchell's cereal. Setting it down on the table I zip open the bag and take visual inventory..

 _Lets see here…_

 _…Bipod, silencer, laser sight, a few other modifications, one rifle cleaning kit, field manual, and a shooting mat. Excellent._

 _I look under the sink, pickup several empty magazines, and a few boxes of ammunition._

 _In the oven I find a few spare parts for the rifle. Perfect!_

I place all new finds into the duffle bag, zip it, sling it over my other shoulder.

I walk past a very shocked and confused Doc Mitchell, with many unspoken questions written all over his face. No fucks given, I simply walk past.

Back in the hallway, at the segment connecting to the master bedroom, I find exactly what I am looking as I appraise the wall which now has a very much out-of-place blast door with industrial red lighting.

Approaching the keypad, I enter 12 digit numerical password: ************.

I hit enter.

The red emergency lighting begins revolving, washing over the entire hallway, while a deep-sounding klaxon is blaring throughout the entire house, as the heavy door slowly parts, revealing a small bomb shelter-like room, dimly light by a couple of lights within.

 **EEEP EEEP EEEP EEEP** {the klaxon and flashing lights continue until the door is closed again}

" **I will be leaving the additional security features on my way out, in case you feel inclined to snoop. One security measure involves explosives."**

I stride into the room and take stock of the contents. It was hardly fully stocked. Not by any means. It would suffice. A few tactical vests still hanging within open-front lockers, on shelves similarly patterned clothing could be found. One or two holsters, a half-full box of glowsticks and a few packets of MRE's. A full box of road flares, first aid kits, and a high grade gas mask, with multiple addons from factory state, it would seem (M40 series).

Basically, when the Marked One leaves the room, he is very heavily geared up, greatly resembling Adrian Shepard from Half-Life Opposing force. One gas mask addon, is the green-tinted lens outserts, which protect against IR lasers/light, and rated for resistance against small caliber ammunition.

Loading what I can into the quick access sheathes, rings, slots, and holsters, I place the rest of the supplies into a backpack with a quick-release system. Somewhere between 'not _too_ heavy' and 'heavy as fuck', could best describe the overall carry weight at that point.

A nice surprise was the only weapon inside the storage room; one tactical knife.

Walking out of the room geared up, I left the balaclava and gas mask in my backpack, for now, fully decked out in urban camouflage grey/black/white pattern.

I once more walk past an even more flabbergasted Doc Mitchell, leaving him gawking at the closing doors, and the mystery room beyond them.

 _The rest of what would inevitably be needed would be purchased, in time. For now, side arm holster would remain empty. Now, if only I could find a stash of chemical weapons or nerve gas…_

 **"Well, if you're heading back out there, you ought to have this. They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one."**

 **"Which vault, and where exactly? Is that where you received training as a surgeon?"**

 **"Ah, you know, a vault in the state of .. well darn this old memory just ain't what it used to be. Bye now."**

Both had the exact same thought; _what a strange man._

As soon as I stepped out of Mitchell's house I am instantly greeted by blinding light, washing out my vision.

 ** _"Gah, fuck!"_**

A few minutes later, with a pair of sunglasses from Doc Mitchell, I head into town.


End file.
